


in the space between your heartbeats

by arouria



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, i'm a romantic sap what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arouria/pseuds/arouria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Here. Tea.” </p><p>She pushes her cup into his hands and there’s a part of him that wants to tell her she needs it more then he does. </p><p>But there’s a another, larger, part that tells him he’d never win an argument with her anyways, so he takes the tea and lets the heat seep through his gloves and down into his very bones. It tastes more like her chapstick then chamomile, but there are worse tastes to linger on your lips, he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the space between your heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i was actually totally supposed to be writing an english outline just now, but this song Bloom by The Paper Kites came on and i fell victim to the Sappy Romantic Mood™ and with the new episode today i had too many ladybug inspired feelings so this happened instead.
> 
> i wrote this whole thing with that song on repeat so , i'd like to think it makes for nice bg reading music. i am slightly obsessed.
> 
> also marichat because i am so here marichat always
> 
> so yeah here's this;

How does one explain that you can know the world about a person who hardly speaks a word to you? 

How does he know that she smiles certain ways when inspiration strikes, that she taps her foot when she’s too lost in thought to notice, that her eyes look like lightning in the darkness?

He shouldn’t know a thing about her. He shouldn’t know her favorite color of the sky or how her silhouette looks against the city lights.

But he does. He knows she bites her lip when she’s in a problem she can’t solve and he knows that her eyes look like oceans when she’s on the brink of breaking down.

She hardly speaks a word to him but sometimes she feels like his entire world and more, and in that unexplainable way that miracles happen, he thinks he knows this stranger better then he knows himself.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette says, curiously eyeing the boy on her balcony. She doesn’t look incredibly surprised to see him.

“Princess,” He bows, biting down on the urge to call her otherwise.  

“It’s late.” She notes, adjusting her grip on the mug wrapped between her fingers. She doesn’t ask him why he’s there, or even what he needs. She just hums and taps the edge of her cup like this wasn’t all that much of an unusual occurrence. Maybe it wasn’t.

“It is.” Is all he can manage, because he can’t find any other words to say. Something flashes in her eyes for a fraction of a second and he gets the distinct feeling she understands exactly why he’s here on her balcony in the middle of the night.

Which must be nice, because he doesn’t really know himself.

She slides down onto the tile floor with her back to the railing, he sits beside her like a lifeline. 

“Here. Tea.” She pushes her cup into his hands and there’s a part of him that wants to tell her she needs it more then he does. But there’s a another, larger, part that tells him he’d never win an argument with her anyways, so he takes the tea and lets the heat seep through his gloves and down into his very bones. It tastes more like her chapstick then chamomile, but there are worse tastes to linger on your lips, he thinks.

“Hey, Chat.” Marinette hums, eyes trained on the stars above them. He brings his gaze to study her face from behind the teacup, her eyes look like oceans. 

“Does it ever feel a little bit like the end of the world?” She keeps her gaze on the stars, he sees entire constellations reflected in her eyes. He wonders, not for the first time, what’s going on inside her head. He wonders if he’ll ever know, if he could hold a place inside of her like that.

“Sometimes.” He answers, because it’s true, and he knows. How many times had he looked at the sky like that? Searching for answers the universe didn’t have to offer.

She brings her eyes back to his, but the stars in them remain. He wonders if they ever really go away.

“What do you do?” She whispers, because as much as she doesn’t want the world to hear, she wants to tell him anyways. 

“I find you.” He says, realizing a fraction of a second too late he’s not supposed to know this girl like he does, that she isn’t supposed to feel like home in a hurricane or have a place inside him that goes well beyond a hold over his heart. 

She smiles and takes her teacup back from him, pressing the rim to her lips and letting the warmth settle her soul.

“I thought that was a secret.” She muses as she presses the mug back into his hands. He finds a small smile to match her own.

“Sorry.” He offers, not feeling very sorry at all. 

“I suppose that’s only fair,” Her eyes sparkle, implying all the things he should have already known. As if he ever could have hoped to hide anything from her. 

His ring beeps. 

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t hold up tradition, though.” Marinette grins in his direction and he lets out a laugh to the stars, he supposes that’s his cue. 

When Adrien sets an empty teacup on Marinette’s desk the next morning, she wonders if maybe the universe sends answers after all.


End file.
